“And Roland was on the forums the other day, right when Anonymous first posted,” I added, pointing to the screen. “And look at what he said here. Emily Rosinski was the best thing about this sorry show. She can do a lot better than Sam.” I snorted. “Grandma was right—Roland’s jealous. And delusional. I bet he thinks if he gets her back on the show, she’ll fall in love with him instead.”
“So what do we do?” Hailey asked. “Tell Lidia? Or my dad?”
I was already heading for the door. “We can’t tell anyone yet. Not without proof.”
I put all my anger and frustration about Roland into three solid hours of laser tag, scoring ten hits in the first fifteen minutes. I’d never played before, but it was pretty similar to paintball, which I loved. Despite my mother’s protests, my thirteenth birthday party had been at this huge outdoor paintball field just outside of Chelsea. I came home with a medal, but all she cared about was my new tennis shoes, all spattered with mud and paint.
Oscar’s mood seemed slightly improved, so I filled him in on Roland’s latest anonymous post in the forums as we crouched behind a short wall to catch our breath.
“So you want to spy on Roland again?” Oscar said.
“Not spy,” I said impatiently, leaning around the side of the wall and aiming my laser gun at a teenage girl with dark blond hair. “Just . . . keep an eye on him. Find some way to prove he’s going to do something to get rid of my dad so he can bring back Emily.” I took my shot, and a second later the top right shoulder of her vest glowed red.
“And that’s not spying?”
I rolled my eyes. “Look, you don’t have to help. It’s my dad who’s about to get fired, not . . .” I trailed off, mortified at what I’d almost said. Not yours.
I was saved from having to think of something else to say when Oscar’s vest lit up blue.
We glanced up just as Jamie threw himself behind a glowing green column. We took off after him, weaving between columns and around other players. Finally, Jamie spun around to face us, his back pressed against the side of a fluorescent-pink staircase—but before any of us could fire, the center of Oscar’s vest lit up red.
“What the . . . Who did that?”
“Gotcha.”
The three of us looked up to see Hailey, lying on her stomach on the top step with her laser gun aimed right at Oscar, smiling smugly. With an exaggerated wail, Oscar staggered around in circles, clutching his chest. He fell to the floor, limbs twitching. Between his melodramatic howls of pain and Hailey’s contagious laughter, for a few minutes I managed to forget the Thing had been breathing down my neck all afternoon.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
TALK IT TO DEATH
Post: The Eternal Prison
Comments: (1)
Anonymous: Nice post. Enjoy your last episode.
Saying good-bye to the Coopers was painful.
“We’ll e-mail lots,” Hailey promised. “And we can video chat!”
“Promise?” I asked, and she nodded vigorously.
We were sitting on the couch in the lobby, waiting while their dad checked out of their room. Jamie pulled his laptop out of his backpack and flipped it open. “Almost forgot to show you this!” A second later, he turned so the rest of us could see the screen, and Oscar started laughing.
THE DOCTOR PAIN FILES
A behind-the-scenes look at the most haunted show on television.
“How did you do that?” I cried in amazement. It was my blog, but way cooler-looking. Jamie hadn’t just changed the title—the whole look was different. The background was a world map, the countries a shade of gray barely lighter than the charcoal water. The header stretched across the top looked like a blurred image of a tunnel filled with a bluish light surrounding the warped black outline of a person in the center. A wispy, animated fog drifted around the title.
“It’s only a template,” Jamie said quickly. “And I just used Doctor Pain as a joke—I made another version with your real name. You’d have to log into your blog to upload it. If you want it, I mean.”
“Um, yes, please.” I leaned closer, watching the fog twist around each letter. “This is amazing. You’re really talented.”
Jamie’s cheeks reddened. “Thanks. You have to keep posting, okay? See if you can get more photos, especially.”
My fingers twitched at the thought of the Elapse. “I will, but I doubt it’ll do any good,” I said. “Roland’s going to do something to get my dad fired, I know it. I showed you that anonymous comment he left on my last post. Enjoy your last episode.” I tried to sound dismissive, although in truth that comment had creeped me out a little. I’d deleted it before Dad or anyone else on the crew could see.
“That’s why you have to keep posting.” Jamie lowered his voice, glancing at his dad. “The fans love the curse. But they love your blog, too. And if your dad leaves, then you leave, and the blog’s finished. Don’t you think they’d rather have all this cool behind-the-scenes stuff than just seeing another host get canned?”
He had a point. My post about Crimptown had gotten almost seven hundred hits, mostly thanks to that photo of Lidia. Maybe my blog actually could be the “something new” Fright TV thought the show needed to bring in more fans.
Hailey groaned, pointing at the doors. Through the glass, I saw a taxi pull up to the curb.
“Ready, kids?” Mr. Cooper called. Jamie closed his laptop and zipped his bag closed.
“Coming!” We all stood, Hailey and Jamie gathering up their bags. Hailey hugged me, then Oscar.
“Promise to tell us all about the prison!” she insisted as we walked to the doors. “Oh, and try the Ouija board again there! Oh, oh, and tell us if your stalker ghost gives you any more messages!”
“I will,” I said, smiling. But a heavy sadness filled me as I watched her and Jamie pile into the taxi. It
